


Amsterdam

by slaapkat



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Comfort, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 23:11:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16774822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slaapkat/pseuds/slaapkat
Summary: Batman does, in fact, care about his rogues gallery.





	Amsterdam

**Author's Note:**

> This is... something of an alternative ending to the Riddler story in Batman 100-Page Giant #5. I wasn’t WHOLLY dissatisfied with the story— Bendis is a fantastic writer and his dialogue of honestly top notch —but I was mildly disappointed he had Bruce voice his concern for Eddie’s state of being twice and then just had Bruce punch him out cold anyways for no real reason. So this is a little fix-it fic of my own. 
> 
> The main difference especially is that the Riddler in story, while still essentially Riddler, is primarily my personal interpretation of the character rather than what is currently commonly depicted in the comics, so: considerably younger, considerably less dangerous (comparatively). Otherwise? Pretty much the same. Dialogue is borrowed at points and switched around to fit my new context. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy nonetheless!!
> 
> Thank you as always to @ufonaut for all the help!

Something was wrong.

Bruce isn’t sure what first clued him into it.

Ollie certainly didn’t care any, that much was obvious by the way he snorted derisively and began docking one of his trick arrows the second Eddie began with _riddle me this._

“Let the Riddler be Riddler, Arrow,” Bruce had said, only mildly chiding. “He works hard on these.”

It helped, also, that said riddles nearly always helped stop or capture Eddie in the end. Ollie stopping Eddie now risked losing them what could easily be the most important clue as to the identity of his buyer.

Because, truth of the matter was— Eddie _did_ , in fact, work hard on them. He was remarkably intelligent, an expert at wordplay, and on the occasions he gave going straight a shot displayed a cleverness which knew no equal.

_And the man who needs it, doesn’t know it yet._

“A coffin,” Bruce answered easily. _Too_ easily.

The sense of wrongness continued to prod at the back of his mind, exacerbated by the realization that Eddie had actually just _reused_ an old riddle.

Huddled there on the ground at his and Ollie’s feet, blood streaming down his face and still clutching tightly to that little yellow box, it struck Bruce in that moment that none of the above qualities could really be applied to Eddie as aptly as they once had.

It was a little bit of everything. From the way Eddie had jumped up with a cry and attempted to bolt the second Batman had walked through those club doors, throwing a hasty parting riddle over his shoulder almost as an afterthought, the way he actually seemed genuinely _afraid_ of Batman rather than just annoyed he’d been caught out or smugly pleased that Batman was right where he wanted him, to the way he was now— eyes darting every which way, still tinged with clear desperation amongst the ever-present sneering sense of self-superiority.

“That was one of your earliest riddles,” Bruce noted absently, frowning. That couldn’t have been intentional. Something was definitely wrong.

“Yeah, and entirely terrible,” Ollie scoffed, rolling his eyes. He stepped forward with the intention of hauling Eddie to his feet and continuing the interrogation in a no doubt more personal fashion, but Bruce put out a hand to stop him.

“You’re embarrassing yourself in front of _Green Arrow,_ ” Bruce said, emphasizing as though it were impossible to be anymore embarrassing than _him_ . Ollie’s scandalized _hey_ indicated he noticed. Bruce ignored him. “Are you feeling all right?”

There’s a flash of fear in Eddie’s eyes just then; _definitely_ not intentional.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, silently staring up at Bruce and Ollie with wide, terrified eyes— like something occurred to him only just then, and the revelation was not a welcome one.

“It’s— doing something to me,” he said, breathless, talking almost more to himself than the two vigilantes standing over him. “I— I can’t…”

Buyer momentarily forgotten, Bruce kneeled down until he was eye-level. “What is, Eddie?”

“You can’t _honestly_ be doing this right now,” Ollie hissed, glancing nervously over his shoulder; the cops would no doubt be here any minute, but for all intents and purposes the Riddler _was_ more or less his responsibility, and despite claims to the contrary Bruce _did_ care about the health and lives of his rogues gallery. Punching them only did so much. Bruce always wanted to help more where he could when the opportunity presented itself. He was getting to the bottom of this. It _had_ to be connected, somehow, he was sure of it.

“It’s— it’s doing something to me,” Eddie only repeated, more fearful now, still not talking or looking directly at Bruce. “I— I thought it was something else, but— it _has_ to be it. Why can’t I—“

“Eddie,” Bruce tried again, level. “What is?”

It was only then Eddie seemed to notice Bruce was there, eyes snapping onto him. Bruce’s frown deepened at the desperate confusion he saw instead of his usual sharp intelligence.

“I have to, _uh_ ,” Eddie started quickly, brows drawing together slightly with the effort of reciting the riddle. “I have to… be _broken_ before I can be _used_.”

“ _This_ again?” Ollie groaned. “Bats, c’mon, knock him out and let’s _go—_ “

“A box without hinges, a key or a lid, yet golden treasure inside is hid,” Eddie continued, breathless in his haste to deliver the riddle before whatever force was affecting him could steal it away, expression stiff and stricken with panic. “ _Um_ , H-Humpty Dumpty fell off a wall…”

“The egg,” Bruce stated. The _Fabregé_ egg he had followed Eddie halfway around the world for, that was being bought for many, _many_ millions of dollars more than any _normal_ Fabregé was worth by a singular interested party they had yet to find the identity of. Interesting. “It’s the egg?” Eddie modded stiffly. He held out the box with a shaky hand. Bruce took it and held it out behind him for Ollie to take. “Don’t open it.”

“I’m pretty sure that second one is from _The Hobbit_ ,” Ollie said as he grabbed the box, more than a little annoyed with the whole situation and not bothering to hide it. “Why not? Isn’t this what you came for?”

“It’s the _Riddler_ , Arrow,” Bruce pointed out, scanning Eddie with a small device he pulled from his utility belt and frowning again when the readings failed to make sense. “Entirely willing to bet there’s nothing inside it _but_ a riddle. It’s also probably boobytrapped. You know how he is.”

“I don’t, actually,” Ollie retorted dryly. “See, this is why everybody hates your rogues gallery.”

“They can be an acquired taste,” Bruce said, equally dry. “Who’s the buyer, Eddie?”

“It’s— It’s so— fuzzy,” Eddie said, his desperation and panic growing more and more apparent. “W-Why can’t I think good? It’s not— you know, it’s not _right…_ ”

“I think something is wrong with him,” Bruce stated aloud, standing .

“I’ll say,” Ollie scoffed, tossing the box flippantly between his hands. “He used to be better at this riddle thing, right?”

“He’ll have the egg stashed in a safer location,” Bruce said, ignoring Ollie’s jibe. “We’ll need to find it and figure out why it’s affecting him like this, _and_ what our buyer wants with it.”

“Woah, _woah_ , hold on, what’s all this _‘we’_ business? I’m just after the _buyer_ , Bats. I had intel on a big-money buy and followed it thinking it was a WMD or _Darkseid’s earring_ or something. All this for a Fabergé egg? I’m not _babysitting—_ “

It was almost a relief when the muted cacophony of approaching police interrupted Ollie’s frankly childish rant. Ollie leveled Bruce with a sour expression, knocking a triplet of smoke bomb arrows when they stormed the club entrance with shouted demands to surrender.

“I heard them coming, by the way,” Ollie said snidely, releasing his arrows at the same instant Bruce threw down smoke bombs of his own, filling the room with an impenetrable haze before the cops could advance on them any further.

Bruce snatched Eddie up and against him without thinking, the rogue barely giving any more resistance than a startled yelp as he was dragged along with them out a side exit into a deserted alleyway, clutching tightly to Batman’s body armor as Bruce launched a grapple line into the sky with just as little warning.

“God, you were serious,” Ollie sighed upon landing on the rooftop after and seeing the Riddler has been brought along. “Honestly, the cops were right there, you could have just _left_ him—“

“Are you all right?” Bruce asked again, deliberately ignoring Ollie’s tirade and turning his attentions solely on Eddie; he was still visibly shaken, eyes darting every which way in mounting panic. Bruce laid a hand on his shoulder to steady him. It seemed to work— if only for a moment, before what was wrong occurred to him all over again.

“No,” Eddie said, stricken with the realization once more. Bruce could see his distress was only getting worse by the second. “No, I’m _not_ , I’m— I can’t _think_ , Batman. Why can’t I think good? Why—“

Eddie cut himself off, gasping with the effort to catch his breath in the sudden swell of sheer _panic_ that threatened to overtake him.

Eddie prided his mind above all else. Bruce knew that much. Whatever was happening to him was no doubt terrifying to him, and incredibly worrying to Bruce.

“Eddie,” Bruce tried, voice low and fervent, both hands on Eddie’s shoulders now in the effort to get him to focus on him. “Eddie, calm down. It’s okay, I can _help_.”

“Why can’t I think good?” Eddie said again, strained and plaintive, his breathing rapid and panicked and _desperate_ . “Batman, I don’t— I don’t _like_ this, you have to help me—“

He was breathing too fast, chest heaving with the effort, well on his way to surrendering to the clutches of an obvious panic attack, far too frightened at the prospect of losing the one part of himself he held most highly, legs threatening to buckle beneath him.

Bruce, at a loss, could only think to do one thing in a situation like this.

Quietly, he pulled Eddie against him in what was very much undeniably a _hug_ , holding him tight and steady through increasingly panicked murmurings of _I can’t, I can’t, I can’t_.

Bruce could recognize a panic attack when he saw one. He’d been at the business end of his own fair share, and had helped his kids through countless more. There was no sense in letting the _Riddler_ needlessly suffer through one as well, and lacking any other option just… did what he did with the kids.

And— it _worked_.

Gradually, Eddie’s breathing slowed, his trembling easing until he was still— taking deep, slow, and deliberate breaths. Bruce couldn’t help but sigh in relief.

“I can help,” Bruce promised, speaking slowly as he gently pulled Eddie away. “But you’ll need to tell me where you’ve hidden the egg, and who your buyer is.”

Eddie looked back at him, gauging him with an odd, unreadable expression, as though he still wasn’t sure what just happened, but lacking the capacity to fully reflect on or understand it. Eventually, however, he did nod his asset, shaky and stiff.

There was a beat of silence, then— “Well!” Ollie declared loudly, decidedly awkward. “You know what! It looks like you’ve got things handled here. I think I’ll go.”

With a forced smile and a jaunty salute, Ollie readied a grapple line and jumped off the building, leaving Bruce and Eddie alone. It was then Eddie finally seemed to notice the extent of just how bad his nosebleed and split lip was, grimacing comically at the sight of the entire front of his shirt and suit jacket red and sticky with blood.

“I’m… dirty,” Eddie said with an air of defeat, frowning.

“ _Hn_ ,” Bruce hummed in acknowledgement. Perhaps that batarang he’d thrown earlier _had_ been a touch overkill. “So you are. Let’s get you changed.”  


**Author's Note:**

> I’m @slaapkat on tumblr!


End file.
